


Puccho

by yeaka



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: M/M, Vignette, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6533422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George watches Henry “eat” a banana split.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puccho

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarahcakes613](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for bookhoor’s “Henry/Banana split” prompt on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/). This isn’t historically accurate.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Murdoch Mysteries or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

George is late by ten minutes, which makes it a toss up whether or not Henry will even be there—they’re not on duty, and there’s no obligation to wait. Other than friendship, of course. But Henry’s... _Henry_.

He took a little too long dressing—trying to pick the right clothes, even though it’s just Henry and that shouldn’t mean anything but does—he slipped in wet grass on the way, stopped to clean himself up, and stopped again once to pet a dog, then to help an elderly woman make it up the steps to the post office. It’s all his fault, though he’d probably do it all again (except for slipping.) He’s still patting some of the dirt off his white sleeves as he wanders through the door of the shop, a quaint little restaurant for cheap breakfast. He tells the teller, “I’m meeting a Mr. Higgins?” and she smiles and points across the way.

George turns without really looking. He’s preoccupied with his messy shirt and a sudden idea for his next novel. He takes off between the other tables before he really spots Henry, and when he looks up and finally does, George’s steps falter.

Henry’s there, alright. Already eating. Of course he would be. He’s got a giant plate on his little round table, with what looks like two bananas on the bottom, then a smattering of thick ice cream, then a drizzle of brown sauce that looks like melted chocolate. Henry’s got a spoon in his mouth, and he pulls it free absurdly slowly, his face tilting back and eyes sliding shut all in the same movement. It’s a look of pure _bliss_ that, for some reason, makes George’s skin burn hot at the surface.

Henry flips the spoon around and drags his tongue up the back, smearing dark chocolate all over his pink tongue. He sucks it right back into his mouth, then licks his lips hard enough to make them glisten. His spoon descends towards the white ice cream, before transferring back to his mouth, the aim dead on but the ice cream soft enough to slick too far across his lips. It drizzles down his chin in a tiny white river that George can’t look away from. Henry tries to lick it away but can’t seem to reach far enough, and so wipes the liquefied sugar off on his index finger, which he pushes between his lips to suck dry. He hollows out his cheeks while he does it, sliding in to the knuckle. George’s entire vision seems to narrow in on _Henry_ , the rest of the shop faded right away, and he has the perfect view of Henry’s handsome profile when that wet finger slips away.

Another scoop of ice cream that Henry sensually laps out of his spoon, and Henry starts pushing the quickly deflating white mound off the bananas. It seems just like him to be both so particular and messy with his food. When the banana’s mostly clear, though clearly moistened, Henry drops his spoon and wraps his hand around the banana’s base. Maybe he just wants to get the fruit out of the way so the dessert’s all that’s left. George doesn’t have the brainpower to fully speculate. He watches, flushed and growing warmer, while Henry lifts the banana to his lips and opens wide for it, tongue peaking out to gently caress the bottom. Henry pushes the tip into his mouth, and George waits to see the first bite, but it doesn’t come: Henry just pistons the banana gently in and out of his mouth, cheeks indenting again with suction—he’s sucking the cream off the banana.

George has the sudden, overwhelming urge to be _with Henry_ , right there, see it up close, and he takes a step forward without thinking, just as another patron pushes to get out of her chair. George’s foot hits the chair leg and he goes sprawling, toppling right to the ground, the commotion enough to make Henry whip around so fast that the banana goes in too far—George yelps at hitting the floor and hears Henry start to choke, the two of them likely going straight to hell.


End file.
